


South of Houston (Above the Fold)

by zinke



Series: Barnes & Noble [4]
Category: Castle
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your father is going to blow a gasket when he sees this." Fourth in the 'Barnes & Noble’ series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	South of Houston (Above the Fold)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in the ‘Barnes & Noble’ series, which all started because of this AU ficathon prompt: _Johanna Beckett never dies_. At this point, it would be best for you to read the previous installments before diving into this one.
> 
> Thanks to gabolange for the suggestions and advice for the fic…and other things. *g*

“Owen says I should just ignore them, but how am I supposed to do that when—” Closing the refrigerator door, Alexis turns and stops short when she notices the look on Martha’s face. “Gram? What’s wrong?”

Martha sighs and pushes the Sunday newspaper toward her. “Have a look for yourself.”

Setting the carton of orange juice on the counter, Alexis turns the paper around and skims the page. “I don’t…oh.”

“Given the situation, I’d say ‘oh’ is a bit of an understatement.” Martha’s gaze drifts to the closed door of Rick’s bedroom. “Your father is going to blow a gasket when he sees this.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Rick feels Kate’s fingers brush lightly against his arm. “It’s not the end of the world, Rick.”

“Says you.” Pushing his pillow aside, Rick rolls onto his side and, propping his head in his hand, gazes down at the woman lying beside him in his bed. “Whatever plans you had for today? Cancel them.” His fingertips trace the curve of her shoulder and catch the edge of the bed sheet, drawing it down as he trails them slowly down her arm. “Because I am taking you on a long-overdue trip to the Museum of Sex.”

Kate gives a pointed sidelong glance at Rick’s fingers as they and the sheet slip past the crook of her elbow. “You are?”

“Yes,” Rick declares, sweeping the covers down the remaining few inches to her waist and dipping his head to place a kiss on the swell of her breast. “I’m sorry to say,” he adds, grinning unrepentantly as he pulls back to admire the view, “that despite the obvious implications, clothing _will_ be required.”

“How disappointing,” Kate says, reaching up to run her fingers through his unruly hair.

“You have no idea.”

“So,” she says, giving him an impish grin, “do you want to call my mother to explain why I’m cancelling on her or should I?”

“Your…mother?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting her for lunch this afternoon.”

“That could be awkward.” Rick purses his lips, making a show of considering their predicament. “Maybe we should invite her to come with us instead?”

“Be careful; knowing Mom she’d probably say yes.”

“On second thought,” he says, paling slightly, “maybe I can take you both out for lunch instead?”

To Rick’s surprise, Kate’s earlier playful expression fades, and is replaced by one of nervous uncertainty. “Really?”

Giving her hand a tug, Rick lies back against the pillows and draws Kate into his arms. “Really. I think it’s high time I met the indomitable Johanna Beckett, don’t you?”

Kate nods her agreement against his chest.

“Besides, my mother’s had all sorts of chances to tell you horribly embarrassing stories about me. I wouldn’t want yours to feel left out.”

“I like Martha.”

“And she adores you,” Rick proclaims, giving Kate an affectionate squeeze. “I’m sure your mother will feel the same way about me.”

Kate lifts her head and eyes him dubiously. “Says the man who’s sleeping with her only daughter.”

“ _Dating_ ,” he emphasizes carefully. “Dating her only daughter. Let’s not use the ‘s’ word in front of the parents, okay?”

“They’re not here.”

“Thank goodness for that,” he says, leering down at Kate while his fingers trace a wandering path across her skin.

Kate hums contentedly and shifts to lie more fully against him. “Martha knows.”

“She _lives_ here. Anyway, what’s she going to do? Ground me? But your mother…”

“My mother what?”

“She’s a lawyer. She knows people.”

“Mom’s a law professor at NYU, not the consigliore for the Spolano family. Besides, it’s my father you _really_ need to be worried about.”

Rick buries his face in her hair and groans. “I’m really screwed, aren’t I?”

Kate’s lips brush against Rick’s collarbone once, twice in response as her hand slips low over his belly in a teasing caress. Lifting her head, Kate meets and holds his gaze a moment, then kisses him. “Not yet,” she breathes against his lips as she slides a leg over his hips to straddle his waist.

“ _So_ much better than a museum,” Rick murmurs, smoothing his palms over her thighs and along the length of her spine before pressing his mouth to hers.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Alexis looks up from the newspaper in her hands. “But…Dad’s never minded this kind of thing before.”

“It’s different this time, kiddo.”

“You really think so?”

The hopefulness in Alexis’s voice brings a faint smile to her grandmother’s lips. “I’m his mother. I know so.” Rising purposefully to her feet, Martha snatches the paper from her granddaughter’s fingers and makes a beeline for the trashcan. “Which is why we cannot under any circumstances let your father or Kate find out about this.”

“Find out about what?” Ambling into the kitchen, Rick stops to give Alexis a kiss on the cheek, then pulls a pair of coffee mugs from one of the cabinets overhead.

The two women exchange a glance. “Nothing, darling.” Martha turns and gives him a bright smile while slipping the newspaper behind her back as unobtrusively as possible. “I take it you and Kate had a good time last night?”

Rick shoots her a warning look and reaches for the coffeepot. “Yes, and she’ll be down in a minute. Is that the paper?”

Martha hesitates, drawing a confused look from her son. “Mother?” he asks, setting down the carafe. “What is it?”

Sighing audibly, Martha hands the periodical over. She and Alexis watch nervously as Rick unfolds it and, once he finds the article, begins to read.

“ _What started out as coffee on the Upper East Side between book tour stops has in just a few short weeks turned into dinner at Drago, box seats at the Metropolitan Opera and shared late-night cabs back to the self-proclaimed Master of the Macabre’s swanky SoHo loft. Though certainly not his usual fare, Rick Castle’s latest conquest, the unassuming and virtually unknown Katherine Beckett, has none the less—_.”

Rick lowers the paper and closes his eyes.

“Now Richard,” Martha begins, raising a cautionary hand,” I don’t think—”

“That woman.”

Martha’s brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“I saw—” Rick opens his eyes and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. This,” he says, tossing the newspaper onto the counter in disgust, “doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” a soft voice says from behind them.

Rick feels his stomach knot as he turns to find Kate standing at the bottom of the stairs, his oversized bathrobe cinched tightly around her waist. “Kate—”

“Someone really wrote that about me?”

All too aware of Martha and Alexis’s eyes on them, Rick swallows hard and forces himself to meet Kate’s eyes. “Yes.”

He waits anxiously for Kate to say something, anything. But her only reaction is a slight grimace as she dips her head in acknowledgement and retraces her steps to his bedroom, shutting the door behind her without another word.

“Dad?”

Rick gives Alexis a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be right back,” he says, already moving towards the stairs.

By the time he’s reached the bedroom, Kate has already exchanged his robe for last night’s barely-there slip dress and is sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Rick?” Straightening, Kate sweeps her hair out of her eyes and meets his gaze. “You didn’t write it.”

“Maybe not.” Crossing the room, he sits down beside her on the bed. “But it was written _because_ of me; of who I am.”

“I knew what I was getting into when I called you, Rick,” she says, her voice tight. “I just never expected….”

“I know.”

He watches sadly as Kate rises to her feet to collect her jacket and purse. “I’m not another one of your conquests,” she says quietly, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“No,” Rick agrees sadly as she walks out of the room and disappears from view. “You’re not.”

 

*fin.*  


  



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